


truths and assumptions

by magumarashi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Missed Opportunities, Viera Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), and a little unrequited pining, for flavour, long and intimate talks in the dark of night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24313555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magumarashi/pseuds/magumarashi
Summary: After defeating Iceheart and hearing the voice of Midgardsormr, Aoife Asturmaux has a lot on her mind. Luckily, Haurchefant is more than willing to lend another pointed ear to her troubles.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	truths and assumptions

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place somewhere in the post ARR, pre-HW quests; I've had this idea for a while so I can't remember which quest specifically it was supposed to be after but w/e. You probably picked up what part of the story this happens in from the summary lmao
> 
> For context, my WoL is a Viera named Aoife Asturmaux. (Her first name is pronounced "Eefa".) I put her backstory on [the Lodestone](https://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/character/27819823/) so I won't repeat the whole thing here, but it's relevant to the fic to mention that she was adopted by Elezen parents in Coerthas. To help her blend in, her parents gave her a magic pendant that would glam her to look like an Elezen, and which broke in the fight with the Ultimate Weapon. (read: I started w/ the free trial and used the fantasia they give you after praetorium to turn her into a viera, then i guess decided to? use that in her backstory?) anyway. the fic probably wont make a ton of sense w/o that context lmao
> 
> Also while it's not a direct sequel, this does follow on from [my previous fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188173)

It was a chiller night than most in Camp Dragonhead, and Aoife Asturmaux found herself unable to sleep. 

She spent a bell or so tossing and turning beneath several layers of comforters and furs, helpless to quiet the myriad thoughts churning in her mind. Her ears kept picking up on the faintest sounds: the crack of dying embers in the hearth, the creak of the support beams overhead. A bird of some kind calling into the empty night. Finally, she conceded that sleep was simply beyond her reach, and stepped out to find somewhere quiet to think.

For the most part, the fortress was dark and silent: torches burned only in the main halls, and the halls leading to guest rooms and barracks had long since gone dim. Aoife made her way outside to a balcony, where a light snow was falling. She shivered a little, and pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders.

_“You’re fighting in a war you do not understand.”_

It had been some time since she’d challenged Iceheart at Akh Afah, but the heretic’s words still stung. She’d been able to put them out of mind for a time, but hearing the voice of Midgardsormr had brought them back to the forefront, and with them all her indignance. What right had Iceheart to assume that Aoife didn’t understand the Dragonsong War? As if she hadn’t spent most of her life in Coerthas, where conflict with dragons was an everyday affair? Icehart must have seen the giant ears on Aoife’s head and jumped to conclusions—not unlike the Ishgardians she claimed to oppose.

Growing up in Coerthas, raised by Elezen who had themselves once lived in Ishgard, the war had been an ever-present force in her life. Even those who weren’t particularly devoted to Ishgard’s god-fearing ways couldn’t ignore the conflict around them. Aoife had been taught to assume that dragons were the enemy, and that the people of Ishgard (for all their xenophobia) were allies. It had been an easy dichotomy to understand, or at least believe she understood: Ishgardians may hurl insults at outsiders, but the dragons will kill your family whether you resemble them or no. One of these evils was demonstrably greater. 

After meeting Midgardsormr, though, Aoife couldn’t help wondering about the things she’d been taught—about the conclusions she herself had drawn. Did the Ishgardians really deserve her help, or were they perhaps only reaping what they’d sown…? 

The sound of footsteps on stone reached her ears, finally jerking her from her thoughts. Who else could possibly be awake at a time like this? She whirled around, expecting to meet the suspicious gaze of a House Fortemps guard, or lock eyes with some maid carefully making her way back from an evening in the barracks. To her relief, the owner of the footsteps turned out to be Haurchefant.

“Aoife!” he said, holding up a folded blanket. “You must be freezing! Please, take this…”

The Elezen lord thrust the blanket into her hands, and though Aoife was surprised he had one with him, she gratefully wrapped it around her shoulders.

“What are you doing up this late…?” she asked him.

“I could be asking the same of yourself, you know!” said Haurchefant, frowning. “Standing out in the cold and dark, no less… The moment I spotted you shivering out here, I immediately ran back to fetch a blanket.”

“Thank you… ” said Aoife, and she meant it. It was just like him to worry over her. “But, uh, that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, right,” said Haurchefant, “I got caught up mapping supply routes. The extra forays into Mor Dhona have proven a bit of a scheduling challenge, especially with the heretics to contend with… Anyroad, what excuse have _you,_ my friend?”

Aoife looked away, ears drooping a little.

“Just couldn’t sleep…”

“I see… was your bed too cold? Or perhaps not soft enough for your liking?” Haurchefant offered. “I could see what other furnishings we can procure—!”

“No, no,” Aoife waved him off. “The bed was fine. It was nice and cozy. I just… have a lot of my mind.”

She looked away, back toward the courtyard below. Aside from the distant _crunch_ of a night watch’s boots on days-old snow, Camp Dragonhead was silent.

“Would you care to tell me about it?” asked Haurchefant quietly. “I don’t mean to pry, of course… but it may help you work through your thoughts if you were to share them aloud.”

“Mm. I don’t mind,” said Aoife, with a soft nod. Talking to Haurchefant had helped clear her mind on a few occasions previously, and she was thankful for his offer. All the same… she wondered how much to tell him. What Iceheart had said would probably not come as a surprise, but could she really tell him she had heard the voice of Midgardsormr? He didn’t seem the type to turn friends in for heresy, but at the same time… well, perhaps she would wait to see whether the conversation flowed that way, and gauge his reaction before revealing the truth. 

“Aoife?” 

Evidently she had spent more time waffling over it than she realized.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was trying to decide where to start. It’s something that’s been bothering me for a few weeks now, from when I challenged Iceheart.”

“I see,” said Haurchefant. 

“After she lost, she tried to taunt me, saying I just do as others command without thinking. Letting others dictate where I point my lance without questioning whether the cause is just. She accused me of fighting in a war I don’t understand, as though I’m some child playing at being a hero…”

“Hmph. She was just trying to ruffle your feathers, Aoife,” said Haurchefant. “Are you not from Coerthas yourself? You mentioned as much some time ago, if I recall.”

“I am,” said Aoife. “I’m sure she assumed I must not be, considering these ears…” Aoife reached up, gently pushing back her ears as she often did when she was feeling self-conscious. “The heretics claim to be above Ishgardians, but their prejudices are the same in the end.”

Haurchefant nodded, wordlessly encouraging her to continue.

“I can’t help wondering whether she would have taunted me so if my parents’ pendant were still intact,” Aoife went on. “If I looked more like someone from Coerthas… But, no, she would likely have taunted me the same. I’m still wearing Alliance garb, wielding an Alliance-made lance…” 

“Aoife…”

Aoife turned back to Haurchefant with a wan smile. 

“I learned that the hard way on my first trip through Camp Dragonhead, not so long ago. Even disguised as an Elezen, if I don’t make the effort to blend in completely, it won’t matter… I’ll be deemed an outsider and dismissed as if my twenty-odd years living here in Coerthas mean nothing.” 

Haurchefant gazed back at her with a difficult expression, as though considering how best to respond to her. Finally, when he could take the silence no longer, he resolved to speak his mind.

“Aoife… I can naught but imagine what you’ve been through,” he said quietly. “I can only offer words of encouragement, which I’m sure are scant comfort at a time like this. But—I have seen you in battle, and seen the causes you’ve deemed worthy of your lance. I do not think you the type to fight for something if you yourself do not believe it just.”

Haurchefant gestured animatedly as he talked, pacing in the snow.

“What could Iceheart possibly know of you?” he went on. “Has she fought by your side? Watched you risk your life that your allies might return home? Looked on as you threw yourself headlong into fights with overwhelming odds, all because you have something to protect that you believe is worth fighting for? Iceheart knows _nothing_ of you, Aoife Asturmaux. You are so much more than someone like her could ever understand.”

Haurchefant couldn’t have known how much it meant to her to hear that. Aoife tried to show her gratitude with a smile, but she wasn’t sure a facial expression was enough to convey how she felt.

“Thank you…” she said, though she felt certain that words weren’t enough either. “Just hearing that… I feel much better, Haurchefant.” There was still her lingering worry about Midgardsormr—the possibility that there was more to the war than she realized—but even those doubts were beginning to ebb away. “It seems I’m in your debt again.”

“Think nothing of it,” said Haurchefant. “I don’t do these things expecting anything in return. Seeing your smile is reward enough for me.”

Aoife snorted, lightly—was there no limit to the man’s kindness? In anyone else it would have seemed suspicious, but everything about his manner was genuine. She’d never known anyone who truly embodied the ideals of knighthood the way Haurchefant Greystone seemed to encompass them all; it was hardly any wonder that he was spoken of so highly for malms around.

“You know—to be honest, you’re the first person I’ve been able to call a friend here in Coerthas,” Aoife admitted. “I didn’t have any friends as a child; even with my parents’ pendant granting me some social cover, I found it hard to get along with others. I always felt ashamed for having to hide things from them. But with you… I never feel I have to hide anything. I’ve never really had that before.”

“I am honored to be someone you can call a friend,” said Haurchefant, beaming. “Would that we had met sooner, or had even grown up together in the same little hamlet… I wouldn’t have let anyone speak ill of you, lest they call down the wrath of House Fortemps.”

Aoife couldn’t help giggling.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s no use dwelling on what-ifs, but… I would very much have liked to have a friend like you growing up.”

Haurchefant leaned forward to rest his elbows on the stone parapet, then turned his gaze back up to her. There was something playful in his eyes that hadn’t quite been there before.

“Then I suppose we'll just have to make up for lost time,” he said softly.

Aoife nodded to him, returning his smile—though internally her mind whirled. The look on his face was enough to spark the imagination, but there was something about the way he’d said it, an almost coyness in his voice, that made her pulse rush. 

_Just where does he get off being so charming…!?!_

The two stood in silence for a time, letting his words and all their various implications hang in the night air. A brisk wind picked up, and Aoife drew the blanket even tighter around her shoulders. Her fingers were starting to numb from the cold.

“I should—!”

“Aoife, I—!”

The two both fell silent, having tried to speak at exactly the same moment. There was an awkward pause as they each willed the other to continue.

“Go ahead, Haurchefant.”

“No, no, you ought to speak first. It’s only polite to let a lady finish speaking, after all.”

“Alright…” Aoife shivered a little. “I was going to say that I’m heading back to bed to try to get some sleep, that’s all. Er—what were you going to say?”

“I… was about to say the same thing myself,” said Haurchefant. He straightened up, lifting his arms to stretch. “There is still much on my plate for tomorrow, and some rest is better than none.” 

“Do you want the blanket back?” Aoife asked.

“Please, take it. No doubt you need it more than I.”

“Alright then.” Aoife smiled at him, giving a little wave from beneath the blanket. “Goodnight, Haurchefant. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Mm, I won’t. Sleep well, Aoife.”

Aoife turned to head back inside, shoes crunching in the snow beneath her. After a bell in the chill night air, she was looking forward to climbing back into her borrowed bed and cozying up beneath the blankets and furs. She would be sure to add the one Haurchefant had given her to the stack; not that she had particularly needed an additional blanket, but there was something about this one that she liked. It had a familiar, homey smell to it that she couldn’t quite place. As she settled in for the night, Aoife wondered where he’d gotten this blanket. Had it come from a storeroom somewhere, or an empty guest room? It didn’t quite have the musty smell of disuse that clung to the other blankets on the bed. There was a possibility that it had come from his quarters… 

… And though the thought embarrassed her, she found herself hoping that the lingering scent was his own. 

* * *

Haurchefant watched her go until he could no longer hear the sound of her boots on the stone floors of the fort. He stood there for a long time, knowing he ought to go to bed—surely it must have been well into the wee bells by now—but it was as though his feet were frozen to the snow-covered ground. At long last he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

He knew it had been for the best that he let her speak first. It was only polite, after all; considering she expressed a desire to turn in for the night, it would have been selfish to keep her longer. Besides, she clearly had enough on her mind already. The last thing she needed was another thing to think about.

But, for a guilty moment, he wished he’d taken the initiative. 

Now he would have to go the whole night regretting that he hadn’t told her how he felt.

**Author's Note:**

> love 2 make myself sad continually
> 
> dont worry in the next fic these two idiots will get their shit together


End file.
